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3 ln s |aiti> of c^job in the (to* Pan : 



SERMON 



DELIVERED IN THE WEST CHURCH, BOSTON, 



OCCASIONED BY THE 



DEATH OF DANIEL WEBSTER. 



BY C. A. BARTo L, 



JUNIOR MDflSTEB. 



yublisfjeti bv Urqucst. 



S E C O X l> B D I T I O N, 



BOSTON: 

/ 

CROSBY, NICHOLS, AND COMPANY, 
111, Washington 

1852. 



£■546 

/4 I 



BOSTON: 
PRINTED BY JOHN WILSON LSD BOH, SCHOOL-STREET. 



-?-; 



SERMON. 



Psalm lxxv. 1, 6, 7: — "Unto thee, o gob, do we give thanes. ... 

PROMOTION COMETH NEITHER FROM THE EAST, NOR FROM THE WEST, NOR 
THE SOUTH. BUT GOD IS THE JUDGE : HE PUTTETH DOWN 
UP ANOTHER." 

We meet this morning with one feeling. When,, at 
God's decree, human greatness from all its state falls 
to the ground like a leaf; when death, usually doing 
its work in silence, seems to cry out over the bier of 
the high and distinguished ; when some figure, that 
has moved with imposing tread in our sight, towers 
still more out of the dark valley ; when the drapery 
of mourning unrolls itself from private chambers to 
line the streets, darken the windows, and hang the 
heavens in black ; when the stroke of the bell adds a 
sabbath solemnity to the days of the week, and the 
boom of guns, better fired over the dead than at 
the living, echoes all through our territory ; while the 
wheels of business stop, and labor leans its head, and 
trade foregoes its gains, and communication, save on 



one theme, ceases, — we may well ask the meaning 
and cause. 

There is a severity proper to the occasions of the 
pulpit. It was reared for the praise of God, and can- 
not lightly echo with that of human beings. He that 
occupies it forgets its dignity, when he postpones 
God's worship to a man's eulogy ; and they who lis- 
ten, forget its duty, when they would prescribe any 
private will for the proclamation of heavenly truth. 
Yet there are earthly events of such moment, that 
they may sometimes with the Word of God furnish a 
fit theme for religious discourse. Nay, all events that 
Lay strong hold of the attention of men, and create 
universal interest, should be turned to a moral use. 
The death of the greatest man in a nation, in the 
language of Job, like a mountain foiling, supplies a 
chosen opportunity for general reflection and instruc- 
tion. As an earthquake, while rending the place of 
its outburst, makes remote regions tremble ; and the 
storm, that mingles sea and sky where it breaks, 
lashes with some wave or ripple the farthest shore, — 
so such a decease will affect the common mind and 
sense of the 1 race. 

There is, indeed, something wonderful in the powei 
exercised by a truly great mind. It draws lessi 
natures to itself, as the central orb docs planets and 
satellites; and the spell which it lays docs not a 
with mortal dissolution, but the sense of it abides, so 



that men familiarly refer to it as still sensible. It is 
thought King William will turn in his coffin at the 
disgrace of his country. The ashes of Napoleon 
certainly have fire in them to this day. And that ex- 
traordinary personage just gone, belonging to the class 
of imperial intellects, seems yet to walk the earth, 
never so strong as now he is in his tomb, mightier 
dead than any behind him living; presides in the 
thought of our land, while rival candidates aspire to 
its high places; spite of neglect passing him by, or 
abusive tongues loosened against him, exacts his meed 
of applause ; triumphs in the appropriation of enthu- 
siasm, though not of votes ; and writes his name high 
on the banners of opposing parties. 

But my object to-day is not so much to praise him, 
as to praise God in him. I think our feeling is less 
of the transcendent merit of the man, than of his 
extraordinary endowment from his Maker. The Al- 
mighty has the credit of him ! No such person rises 
out of human will, or can quite make himself by any 
study or industry. Our phrase is a true one, — that 
he is raised up. God made and moulded him for an 
instrument of power, for a vessel of honor, and a lamp 
to shine beyond a private dwelling over the land. 
While many panegyrics have already been pronounced 
upon this leading counsellor and pre-eminent civilian, 
I have thought it best to wait till the season of com- 
posure after the first shock of his decease has passed 



away. We do not wish our friend to be delineated 
to us the moment after he is dead. Our thoughts at 
first best describe him with their silent oratory ; and 
we would have nothing come instead of the witness 
of our own hearts. 

besides, of one who has been public property while 
he lived, and is public property, in his memory and 
fame, when he dies, it is difficult to speak at first with 
the sobriety and equity which we may use when we 
have become calm. It is long before the heart con- 
sents to any measured estimate. We will have our 
hero unparalleled and spotless. Our inclination to 
wrap the errors of humanity in its winding-sheet ; to 
shut our eyes on every blemish in our favorites, and 
declare them immaculate ; to resent qualified lauda- 
tion, and, according to the ancient precept, say nothing 
of the dead but good, beautifully shows at least the 
thirst which the human soul has for the perfect. Yet 
our admiration of excellence, or our jealousy for an 
idol, would more wisely admit the drawbacks in any 
actual example, than let down the supreme standard 
of right. 

On consideration, different persons, according to 
their diverse pn possessions, will somewhat variouslj 
regard one who both vastly exceeded the proportions 
of his fellows, and bore the stamp and moved in the 
course of qualities so individually his own. "^ ou will 
let me, instead of spreading out tin- details of his 



biography, or recounting his public services, which 
will be done by many voices and every press in the 
land, endeavor, as with few strokes I may be able, to 
draw the man himself. Again, I must say, I think of 
the part his Former had in him. The creature refers 
to the Creator. What principally strikes us all, I 
think, is not any thing in the circumstances of his 
life, or the achievements of his career, or the acquired 
qualities of his character, so much as the original 
capacity of his nature, — the spirit within him as the 
gift of God, as the son of New England, the chief 
representative of the American mind, and the child 
and sponsor among us of our forefathers. His stal- 
wart soul and body seem by an infinite hand to have 
been shaped out of the granite of his own hills ; and, 
through all culture, all education, all civilization, 
and policy with its smoothing process of half a cen- 
tury, the rugged primitive simplicity of the man was 
strangely preserved. The discipline of training, the 
force of example, the dexterities of legal procedure, 
the courtesies of high life, the deep manoeuvres and 
cunning snares of party, the plans and over-reachings 
of politicians, could not alter this original shape, or 
twist the direction of his nature, any more than the 
tools of an engraver or a covering with inscriptions 
can change the features of pyramid and obelisk tend- 
ing to the skies. Verily his promotion came not from 
the East, nor from the West, nor from the South, 



8 



but from his own divinely pre-ordained ascendency, 
bearing him to the highest seat of power, though it 
never opened the supreme post of office. The prime- 
val impulse in him always worked. If he labored 
hard in any pursuit, it was not so much from any 
forward will which distinguishes some, or any quick 
and naming imagination that characterizes others, 
but because the toiling brain, through all that was 
unpromising in a slow and bashful temperament, and 
all that was unpretending in a Puritanic way of 
thought, bore him inevitably on. It is an indication 
of this natural might and simplicity that to the last 
his native soil claimed its portion in him; and the 
very dust, that he was akin to, drew him away from 
splendid success, from triumphant debate, from busy 
streets and magnificent prosperity. Not only was 
the child father of the man, but the man went back 
to the freshness and innocence of the child, to his old 
filial reverence and fraternal generosity ; and from his 
father's house and field the boy carried to the end of 
his days a special respect, among other occupations, 
for the simple character of the tillers of the ground. 
Through all the changes of life and modifications of 
opinion, which he, like other men, experienced, a cer- 
tain rocky stability and sincerity, as of the unpolished 
ledge, jutted out. His words were always close to 
the thing that he dealt with. He had little to do 
with abstractions or pretensions or rhetoric. Ee never 



used merely fine or fastidious expressions. Every 
sentence and accent from his mouth had meaning, and 
was alive and sensitive with the life of his heart and 
soul. The brilliancy of his style was but the kindling 
of its solidity, and the pomp of his marching periods 
according to the invincible ranks of his argument. 
A nature gravitating to the truth, and a logic as of 
wrought iron, made him perhaps as powerful an advo- 
cate as ever lived. Native force of sensibility was his 
seal, and he carried through the world the title that 
God at the beginning put into his hand. Not pos- 
sessing the highest order of genius, nor reaching the 
loftiest height of character; not, by extreme moral 
pains-taking, refining himself into a saint, nor fasten- 
ing his eye, with celestial vision, on spiritual realities, 
to sublime himself into a martyr ; he rather looked 
outward with clear strong sight upon the world and 
the actual things of the world. He looked at his 
country, and loved his country. He might well say he 
would speak as an American ; for he was an Ameri- 
can, in all the continental length and breadth of 
meaning in that word, as much as any man that walks 
this Western soil. He had, as clear perhaps as any 
man, a conception of America, and of the progress, 
safety, and glory of these United States ; and I believe 
he was true to his conception. If he were ever un- 
true, it was not wittingly, but from unconscious bias. 
His conception, indeed, was not ideal ; for he was not 



10 



by constitution a poet or a metaphysical philosopher, 
but a practical man, acting and arguing for the case 
in hand and the pressing necessity, intuitively per- 
ceiving and gigantically grasping every thing related 
to the emergency in which he strove, and with eagle 
eye discerning the actual issues of each passing 
affair. 

In endeavoring to mark the intellectual kind which 
this man was of, and stood at the head of, I ascribe to 
him no low motives of conduct. I suppose his 
motives to have been patriotic and religious. There 
was in him a candor, a moderation, a justice, a natural 
piety, always manifest in what he did and said, and in 
admirable contrast with the censorious and disinge- 
nuous extravagance sometimes, alas! blasphemously 
brought to the defence of right principles and a good 
cause. I have no inclination to re-open here any 
questions discussed by him, on which the community 
has been divided. I should scorn to lift a finger in any 
controversy with the dead. Conscious only of intel- 
lectual benefits to be joyfully acknowledged, and of 
no harm to my convictions from the great departed, 
— though differing with him, as the humblest may, in 
the judgment of some things, — I differed loss seriously 
with him than with those who have been bitter against 
him. and have toiled to blacken him withexauuvrations 
of fault, or to blow upon him with that foul breath 
of ignorant slander, which, against the distinguished, 



11 



Rumor avails herself of every circumstance, either to 
magnify or excite. It was his fate to spend his life, 
though not in the bloody field, yet as a warrior ; to go 
from the close encounters of the courts to the sharpest 
and hottest conflicts of parties ; and strange would it 
be if no mistakes had ever been committed by him, 
and no malignities engendered against him, how- 
ever elevated his own course. Undoubtedly he co- 
veted the chief station ; but he aspired that he might 
do good in it, and justify, if he could, the principles 
he had defended, and the measures he had advised. If 
he did wrong, — as every man, save the Divine One 
has done, — still, the broad nature of the man appeared, 
and there was an honesty of religious conscience in 
him that plainly and directly told him of the wrong 
he had done. He did not palter with himself in a 
double sense, or sophisticate the eternal distinction 
of right and wrong. He had not the facility with 
which some, in public or private life, can do ini- 
quity and violate all principle, yet wear about the 
unruffled face as of purity, and appear to avoid, in 
their dull conscience, any sting. If he knowingly 
sinned, he owned his sin to God and his soul. He did 
not and could not escape the sin. It preyed on his 
big heart ! It wrote a tragedy of glory obscured in 
his grand and adamantine face. It put him at war 
with himself. The naturally proud man, with his 
weighty, and, not seldom, somewhat austere presence, 



12 



whom no opposition could daunt or threat overawe, 
from whom danger or assault only brought forth the 
low growl or tremendous roar, bowed his head to the 
decrees of God, with mournful but free consent took 
every blow of compensation, and yielded his cheek to 
the furrows of pain from the hand which had a right 
to plough them ; while, as genuine in his prayer to 
the High Disposer as in his plea at a human bar, 
gushed out his entreaty of forgiveness through Jesus 
Christ. It is sometimes said, great men, counting on 
impunity, and heedless of the obligations that bind 
their inferiors, can do as they please. He had no such 
theory. He was too wise and just to expect judgment 
according to any such rule ; but, owning — yea, as a 
higher law, above all human statutes — the commands 
of the Sovereign One, he nobly bent his brow to 
abide by the sentence of the Almighty, and implore 
the pardon of God. 

This genuineness, which was the archetype and 
key-note of his character, adds a singular value to his 
judgment of Christianity. He was no formal pretender 
to faith ; but he believed. He could hardly have been 
a mere professor of any thing. The rude, downright 
force of his nature would have forbidden. A ship of 
war must sail on the high seas or in deep channels, 
and cannot turn and wind like lighter craft through 
every crooked strait. The great religious soul which 
God gave him inspired all his composition, filled his 



13 



language with power to quicken the adoration of 
thousands, bound the sentiment of his breast in a 
steady, unfaltering loyalty to the gospel, made him 
pay respect without exception to its institutions, and 
moved him to express a desire — it it were not consi- 
dered as presumptuous — to have it inscribed on his 
tomb that he was a believer in the religion of Jesus. 
High emotion, indeed, upon every theme, stamped 
him. He relieved his earnestness with wit and humor, 
but had a sort of elephantine dislike for mere levity, 
triviality, and insignificant playing upon words. This 
positiveness, reality, and decisive warmth of his feel- 
ings, while securing to him many friends, no doubt 
made him some enemies. With all his ambition, he 
could not very well be a courtier, — could not strive 
to win the " sweet voices " of the multitude, or the 
favor of the few, — could not, like some men, by 
flattering attentions, please everybody. The oak 
might as well try and stoop with its branches to kiss 
those approaching it. He was not capable of being a 
hypocrite. If those with him were strange or dis- 
agreeable to him, he was dark upon them. Strong in 
his friendships, he never put on his antipathies that 
disguise of smiling persuasiveness with which some 
send all their guests away charmed. 
Occasionally, perhaps, he was 

" Lofty and sour to them that loved him not ; 
But to those men that sought him, sweet as summer." 



14 



The contempt and wrath which, feeling, he did not 
dissemble, nor ever meanly wear as concealed weapons, 
and which are sometimes divine instruments of action 
in the world, partook of the majesty of his nature, and 
were awful as the flashing bolt in their display. But 
whatever sign he showed of that anger and self-will, 
which even the patriarch found in some of his sons, 
readily, like the thunder, rolled away, leaving serene 
as the heavens his spiritual firmament. He was not 
vindictive. He did not like to harbor malice, but 
would erase from the permanent record of his words 
every hostile expression; while his habitual good- 
nature was as deep as his frown w r as portentous ; and 
a goodness, magnificent as his endowments, came forth, 
now in substantial tokens of regard, and now in the 
most resistless captivation of manner. 

Shall we say, no perfect renewal had converted his 
fundamental mood into the complete sweetness which 
presents the finest, though the rarest, pattern of a 
man l So there might sometimes be a sullen dash in 
his temper, or a drop of potent gall in his word. Yet 
his sweetness, when it came, w T as absolute, and had all 
the grandeur of his soul. 

Let us, my friends, discourse of him in simplicity ; 
not with the blind, inconsiderate extravagance, which 
he, the clear, cool, and precise speaker, would, of all 
men, despise. Death shakes somewhat awhile the 
scales of judgment. But he, too, like others, must 



15 



rest, and would demand to rest, in the balance. It is 
too much to ask that the moral law should give way 
to any one. Here, or elsewhere, must I speak of him 
with sincerity, if at all. 

Exalted as were the traits of his behavior, and vast 
the services rendered by his talents and devotion to 
his country, — as, according to the one thought I have 
stated, and tried to illustrate, we revert to the mighty 
material, by the Constructor himself of the human 
soul, put into his frame, — we feel, as with other men, 
there was more of music in him than he made, riches 
of nature not fully reduced into character, tendencies 
to excellence which had no complete production into 
their correspondent lines. Had all his relations been 
rilled out after the interior design, no obstacles could 
have hindered his rise to every point of power, no 
backbiting prevented a universal acknowledgment of 
his worth, and perhaps no criticism detracted from the 
parallel which would put him into the same mountain- 
range with Washington in his fame. 

It is sad and sorrowful to imply any reserves ; and 
I would as gladly fill up every defect in a masterly 
character as I would mend a flaw in some priceless 
jewel, or lift to the top-stone with rejoicing the beau- 
tiful and holy cathedral, on whose unfinished tower, 
in a foreign city, hangs the rusting crane. But let us 
consider that the true praise of a man is not indis- 
criminate and fulsome, declaring that he is the only 



16 



man, possesses all virtues, and presents the absolute 
model to copy. " Paint me as I am," said the English 
Protector, Oliver Cromwell, himself also great, to the 
artist who was taking his likeness. Put in every 
seam of the countenance ! Paint me as I am, might 
every great man say to those that laud him ; for it is 
only by shading the light of a man's moral portrait 
with just limitations, that his real merits can be clearly 
seen, fairly owned, or honestly celebrated. The con- 
scientious exception leaves the real object of our love; 
while vain and thoughtless encomium, hunting for all 
the shining words of the language, turns out but a 
smooth and featureless specimen of humanity, that 
can have no hold on our hearts. 

I stand here, and pay him the due and loftiest 
tribute, in saying, Could he open his marble lips, 

— nay, could he speak from his heavenly estate, with 
but the quality he had on earth, there made perfect, 

— he would ask no compliment but truth ; he would 
utterly refuse unqualified extolling, and zeal in his 
behalf not according to knowledge ; but would stretch 
out his arms fondly to clasp and strain to his bosom, 
not his unscrupulous advocate or fawning parasite. 
but whosoever, affectionately prizing his nobilities, 
would tenderly note where the pattern was not com- 
ply e. God knows a pure good-will, running through 
man\ years of life, would dischar ich reverent 
office now; for as truly as any man that sits here did 



17 



I revere and love him. I remember well, how, more 
than twenty years ago, when, after having, with his 
matchless senatorial periods, made eloquent the lips 
of a band of students, he himself appeared among us, 
with almost preternatural impression, like old Saul 
come back to the earth, in that stature, exceeding all 
his fellows, which in offices, though subordinate, he 
has ever maintained. 

" Pygmies are pygmies still, though perched on Alps; 
And pyramids are pyramids in vales." 

If the opinion of some be granted, that he committed 
errors, they were huge ones, which hardly seemed to 
be his, but his country's ; while he embodied in his 
person the spirit of the community, as in yonder hall 
thousands of faces were wont to turn from side to side 
with the sway of his countenance. 

Ah ! the great are as a city set on a hill, that cannot 
be hid. Their slightest mistakes are noted, and blown 
abroad, and often enormously swollen beyond their 
dimensions. They are often but as innocent scape- 
goats, laden and heaped with the people's sins, which 
they are forced to bear the reproach of, as they carry 
them away into the wilderness. But this man's habit 
and propensity was verily to choose and cleave to the 
right. So his words had in them, beyond all orna- 
ment, such breathing and throbbing vitality, that, if 
his orations were sundered, and severally broken in 

3 



18 



pieces, sublime passages of them, like the fragments of 
Greek sculpture and literature, would endure to distant 
ages, and fame would blow her trumpet over them 
through the world. To the youthful imagination, 
this perhaps chief author of political wisdom since 
the foundation of our government looked like the 
capitol of the land, shaped broad and lofty, — the seat 
of deliberation and source of wisdom. 

" Sage he stood, 
With Atlantean shoulders, fit to bear 
The weight of mightiest monarchies : his look 
Drew audience, and attention still as night, 
Or summer's noontide air." 

If his foes will picture him rather as a lion that has 
been slain, the fact of his singular benefits remains to 
be solved, like Samson's riddle: "Out of the eater 
came forth meat, and out of the strong came forth 
sweetness." When he drew himself up cold and for- 
bidding, his aspect was terrible, like that of the king 
of the forest ; when angry, he could be fierce ; his 
nature would occasionally break out of the cage of all 
restraints, and could never take any permanent gloss : 
but when, as the custom with him was, moral passion 
inspired his reason, he moved on calm and slow, confi- 
ding in what is eternal, with the momentum of fate. 

Snch wus his profoundest inclination. It was not 
according to the quality of the man to be the tool of 
anj base design, but to be the servant of God and 



19 



instrument of righteousness. However his magnani- 
mity may, under any circumstances, have been modi- 
fied, yet clothed with integrity and true glory was the 
cause his heart would fitly be allied to and sponta- 
neously espouse; and at death his soul rose clear, 
strong, and steady to that height after which his life, 
like almost all human life, — like all our lives, mine 
and yours, — was a doubtful struggle. Let him be 
censor who is first sure of the purity and perfectness of 
his own soul ! That courageous fronting of the last 
foe, or friend rather, though men do not so count 
him ; that tranquil acceptance of the final doom ; that 
undisturbed discharge of all public and private duty, 
— one eye fixed on earthly duty, and the other on 
heavenly felicity, — while disease, full in sight, ap- 
proached the citadel of mortal consciousness; that 
distinct and deliberate farewell of religious comfort 
and counsel to each and all around him ; that gather- 
ing up of himself, even after the manner of Jacob, to 
die, bowing like a child at the call of God the head 
no mortal adversary had ever lowered, challenges our 
undivided honor. Nay, it is all the handwriting of 
Providence on the tables of our hearts. Naming the 
name of God, he named also that of Jesus Christ, the 
Son of God, in his prayer. He stood by the nurture 
of his childhood, and retained the adherence of his 
manhood to the faith of the gospel. He relinquished 



20 



other supports, he renounced all human confidence 
and earthly fame, for the mercy of God in Jesus Christ. 
Verily, hence may come a lesson to our belief; for his 
excelling intellectual soundness and ability yield from 
him, the Arguer, an opinion of the Christian argument 
which cannot be gainsaid by any ancient or modern 
sceptical ingenuity ; — ingenuity, I say ; the unbe- 
liever never being the great man, but only the inge- 
nious one. Christianity indeed can derive no lustre 
from any brilliancy of the parts of man. Christianity 
rests on no columns of human power and patronage. 
Christianity will survive all reputations, however fair 
or colossal. But the respect of the great for her truth 
may certainly cancel the carping of the little, and the 
satisfaction of extraordinary set aside the discontent 
of peculiar minds. Thankful that this man, among 
us unequalled, settled his convictions and anchored 
his hope in this divine revelation, let us moor our 
expectations to the same pillar. 

Let, then, that divine arbitrament — humbling to 
its lines all human greatness — which he owned, and 
whose rectitude can. to suit no cubit of man's height, 
be bent ; let that Bible, whose reading, even from 
behind his own memory, spanned his existence, and 
lent scriptural power to his words ; let those hymns 
of God's praise, at whose resounding his soul ran out 
streaming as into a child's tears; let that tender-eyed 



21 



respect he showed for what is dear in the name of 
father and the thought of mother, representing|the 
parental Deity ; let that suppliant compunction for his 
offences, from a mouth so finely and massively shaped 
to honesty, that, in addressing God or man, it could 
not lie; let that descending angelic faith and hope, 
which, at break of day on the morning of the world's 
worship, lifted his o'er-wearied spirit, spent with lin- 
gering pain, to its commensurate destiny in the skies, 
— be all as wide with us, his bereaved countrymen, 
as was that public presence with which, in princely 
might, he over-arched our borders and seems still brood- 
ing on the land, but half-willing to rise to heaven, 
unless he can hover round the interests and watch the 
prospects of the natal soil so dear to him below. Let 
the purest inspirations of patriotism and freedom, with 
which, in the times of his earthly glory, he winged our 
souls, now exalt us to that pitch of Christian wisdom 
and disinterested national honor, from which alone 
the coming emergencies of our swift career can be 
justly met. With his worthiest speech and action, as 
he trod this mortal stage, and caught the ears of dis- 
tant tribes to his voice, — whatever was imperfect 
humanly dropped, whatever was excellent divinely 
complete, — let him, as in Milton's vision, " vested all 
in white," come back. So let his enlightening mind 
and guiding spirit, revisiting us, be received and en- 



22 



tertained. As to-morrow the strife, from which the 
old leader, whom we have celebrated, is released, will 
again go on, let us, admonished by God of the end 
of existence and of the passing away of the world, 
carry into the conflict of parties and all the turmoil 
of business those principles of uprightness and truth 
which he exemplified, and which alone can stand the 
reckoning of the judgment-day. 



89 W 



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